


you could be a nightmare (but i’d never want to wake up from you)

by taemintylips



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 23:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemintylips/pseuds/taemintylips
Summary: Yoo Kihyun is 25 going on to 26. He knows life is a fucking rollercoaster that throws you around when you least expect it. He knows that there are no gold pots at the end of a rainbow, nor does every love story have a once upon a time and a happily ever after.





	you could be a nightmare (but i’d never want to wake up from you)

**Author's Note:**

> yayyyyyyyyyyyy i finally did it first fic ever  
> but i'm shitty so yeah
> 
> title from beautiful nightmare-beyonce

They don’t talk anymore.

At least not since Hoseok grabbed his bags and left.

 

That was six months ago. One hundred and eighty-two days, approximately.

Kihyun keeps track.

He doesn’t know if Hoseok does, though.

 

He wonders if Hoseok still remembers what they fought about.

 

 

 

 

 

“Babe, where do I put my stuff?”

Kihyun turns away from the vegetables he’s chopping up for dinner and peers at the door. Hoseok stands there with a smile playing at the corners of his lips, his hair a brunet mess splayed across his forehead. He’s wearing those jeans so ripped Kihyun had threatened to throw them out more than once. Hoseok just laughs every time and says that Kihyun just hates it when other people ogle at his legs.

(He’s not wrong, though. His asshole of a boyfriend does have sinful thighs.)

 

“First room on the left. Drop your stuff and come help me here.” Kihyun wipes his hands on his tattered apron. He hears Hoseok’s footsteps pattering down the hall and the sound of his duffel bags being thrown onto the bed carelessly.

He’s about to turn around and tell Hoseok off but his forehead collides with a broad chest. Hoseok’s arms snake around him, engulfing him in the faint scent of his cologne.

 

“Miss me much?” Soft breaths tickle his ear. Kihyun squirms but Hoseok just traps him against the counter, pressing against Kihyun’s back.

“You were just here yesterday, you sap.” Kihyun gives up and rests his head in the crook of Hoseok’s neck, inhaling softly.

Hoseok lifts Kihyun’s chin with gentle fingers, and fits their lips together.

“It’s different. Now we’re officially living under the same roof,” Hoseok whispers against Kihyun’s mouth. They both smile into the kiss. Kihyun pushes against his shoulders lightly.

“Still didn’t. Now hold this for me, asshole.” He shoves a bowl into Hoseok’s hands and shoos him away from the counter.

Hoseok whines. Kihyun laughs.

 

Hoseok ends up distracting Kihyun (as usual), so Kihyun kicks him out of the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kihyun’s an art major. Their living room is often scattered with scraps and various hues staining the wooden planks.

Hoseok majors in music and composing. Their dining table is stacked with scores and notebooks filled with Hoseok’s messy scribbles.

 

It’s a typical Sunday afternoon: Hoseok’s struggling with the hangover from the night before (handiwork of Minhyuk and Jooheon) while trying to jot ideas down in his notebook, and Kihyun just lazes around on the sofa, doodling on Hoseok’s outstretched hand.

 

“Scooch over a bit,” Kihyun hums as he uncaps another marker. “I want to abuse your right arm as much as possible.” Hoseok just rubs his temples and groans.

“My head is gonna explode, fuck.”

“Well, serves you right for getting trashed at that party.” Another doodle on Hoseok’s wrist. Hoseok pouts at his boyfriend who’s settled comfortably in his lap.

“Don’t blame me, it was Minhyuk-”

“Shouldn’t you have enough sense to, like, just ignore that fucker,” Kihyun raises an eyebrow.

“Ki-”

Kihyun shuts him up with a tug on his collar and a swift kiss.

 

 

 

Hoseok’s songs are longer stanzas of those he hums while stroking Kihyun’s hair at night.

Kihyun’s works are more sophisticated versions of the marker doodles on Hoseok’s arms.

 

 

 

 

Kihyun has an old Polaroid he likes to tinker with.

He takes pictures of everything, but more than often he finds Hoseok in his frames.

Making a V sign at the camera, standing in front of the mirror, blearily blinking away sleep, tucking his locks into a beanie, or pictures of them both.

Hoseok likes the photos of them the best.

 

Kihyun thinks he should have taken more pictures with Hoseok.

 

 

 

 

“Holy _shit_ I’m so fucking late-”

Kihyun blinks blearily. He can hear Hoseok swearing and rummaging through his wardrobe.

“What the fuck, you piece of shit – ow!” A loud thump resonates through the short hallway. Kihyun wraps himself in Hoseok’s hoodie that was thrown haphazardly on the floor. He treads carefully through piles of clothing and out of their bedroom.

“Hoseok?” He calls out, voice still clogged with sleep.

“Hey babe, I’m sorry I woke you but _shit I’m so late_ -” Hoseok rushes to the door with his bag unzipped, spilling all his papers on the floor. “ _FUCK_ -”

Kihyun crouches down and helps his frantic boyfriend obtain the escaping mess. He then tucks a photo into the fold of Hoseok’s beanie.

“For good luck.” He gives Hoseok’s hand a brief squeeze.

Hoseok looks up at him, and breaks into that goddamn dazzling smile that makes Kihyun melt a little.

 

(He later remembers the photo tucked into his beanie after a lecture from his boss. It’s a photo of Kihyun snickering at him while he drools in his sleep.

 

Although he’s an ugly motherfucker when he sleeps, he still keeps the photo.

 

It becomes a habit, of Kihyun showing affection through sneaky photos hid inside Hoseok’s endless choice of beanies, and of Hoseok stashing them in a scrapbook.)

 

 

 

Kihyun wishes he had taken more photos with Hoseok.

Because Hoseok not only left, he also left with the scrapbook in tow.

Kihyun sometimes visits the bookstore Hoseok used to work at. He knows that Hoseok isn’t there, and won’t be there.

But he still sees his boyfriend flitting through the aisles, holding dusty novels in his arms, nodding off when assigned to the cashier, and waving happily when Kihyun passes by.

 

 

 

 

 

He left with their treasured scrapbook, but without his phone.

 

Kihyun calls every now and then, even if he knows Hoseok’s phone is just in the other room, out of batteries, even if he can only listen to the dull beeping of an unanswered call.

He’s content with leaving voice messages Hoseok will never hear.

 

“Hey, just wanted to tell you I dyed my hair again. Had a bit of time yesterday, so I just…hell, I don’t know why I’m calling you now, I don’t even know why I call you at all, you asshole. Don’t forget to take the trash out, you were supposed to do it yesterday. Take care of yourself, idiot.”

Kihyun runs his hand through his newly dyed brown locks.

He hangs up and ignores the tears that dampen his sweater. Hoseok’s sweater.

 

He takes out the trash by himself.

 

 

 

 

 

Minhyuk drops by every week to see how he’s holding up. Sometimes Changkyun tags along, sometimes Jooheon does, too.

They notice how one pillow is missing from Kihyun’s bed, but they never bring it up.

They take him out and fool around and drag him to parties, and sometimes Kihyun feels better. He knows how hard his friends are trying. He’s also trying.

 

But some nights he clings to the pillow he hides in the closet, the one that no longer carries Hoseok’s scent, and cries himself dry.

 

He was never angry at Hoseok.

He regretted everything the moment Hoseok’s face fell.

He died the moment Hoseok slammed the door.

 

He knows, he knows it’s his fault Hoseok packed and left.

He knows he was too selfish to try to keep Hoseok to himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Babe, I have something to tell you.”

They lay in bed, limbs entangled, with Kihyun flush against Hoseok’s chest. He absentmindedly traces his fingers along the faint scratches on Hoseok’s arms and nuzzles closer.

“What?”

Quiet breathing, erratic heartbeats.

“I was accepted.”

Kihyun froze, words running through his head a million miles per hour.

“Oh my god. You’re accepted,” he breaths. His eyes find Hoseoks’ in the dark and he sees how they shimmer in anticipation and nervousness.

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies just as breathlessly.

Kihyun kisses the rest of his breath away with tears in his eyes.

 

Hoseok is accepted. To the school of his dreams. Where he can show his potential as a composer, a producer, a musician.

Halfway across the globe.

Kihyun couldn’t be sadder.

 

“Babe…” Hoseok kisses his bare shoulder. He feels Kihyun’s anxiety, his insecurities leaking out from the corners of his eyes.

“We can make it work,” Kihyun whispers, “I’m still waiting for their reply, maybe we’d still end up together.”

 

 

A letter a few days later crushes every shred of hope Kihyun had for their future.

 

 

He doesn’t remember the months of shouting and harsh comments afterwards.

He doesn’t remember the poison coming out of his own mouth, scarring Hoseok and leaving himself raw and trembling.

He doesn’t want to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kihyun catches small snippets of conversation from his friends occasionally.

 

“- doesn’t know when he’s coming back -”

“- could be until -”

They stop abruptly when they sense him approaching, but he doesn’t mind.

At least Hoseok is well and he still contacts his friends.

It’s enough to ground Kihyun for now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Sorry I couldn’t get you something special.”

They’re both lying on the living room floor, Kihyun’s art supplies pushed aside carelessly to accommodate their lopsided blanket fort.

Pillows and blankets were stacked to create a cozy haven that was a tad too small for two grown men.

Hoseok drapes his arm over Kihyun’s waist, deft fingers rubbing soothing patterns on pale skin. He leans into the welcoming touch.

“Well, at least you made it up with this shitty fort,” Kihyun muses while pulling at Hoseok’s cheeks.

“It is _not_ shitty. You’re so mean. This is called being romantic, okay?”

“More like poor as fuck, you big baby.”

“But you love your baby.” Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows at Kihyun, who rolls his eyes and smothers him with a stray pillow.

“Remind me why I started dating you in the first place, for fucks’ sake.”

“Because of Minhyuk and his obsession with setting people up for blind dates?”

“…Please don’t remind me of that. What happened to the hot guy with a motorbike? Who’s this big sap here?”

“So you _do_ think I’m hot.”

Kihyun groans and turns away. Hoseok chuckles and pulls him back. They tumble back onto pillows, Kihyun on top of Hoseok.

“Happy birthday, baby. I still love your mean ass.” Hoseok winks.

“Shut up, asshole.”

 

(Kihyun later takes a picture of Hoseok dragging the blankets back to their room, and labels it: _ur sappy but ur also my 21 years old_.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s day 365. One whole year.

Kihyun feels like drowning.

He doesn’t leave his room that day.

 

 

 

 

 

A few days later, Minhyuk drags him to another party.

He lets himself go that day. Smoky makeup, ripped jeans, hair gelled up, choker, all black.

(Everything that used to attract Hoseok’s heated palms and rough kisses.)

 

He remembers accepting a cup from Minhyuk and downing the contents. And another. More. He sloshes down cup after cup, washing out the chaotic atmosphere of the party.

He does everything to calm the waves crashing inside that threaten to swallow him whole.

He doesn’t remember anything after that.

 

(Only Hoseok’s disapproving gaze stays imprinted in his mind because Kihyun knows how he hates him drinking.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up to a screaming headache and clothing that surprisingly doesn’t reek of alcohol.

Kihyun stumbles into the bathroom and inspects his complexion. But his bloodshot eyes are drawn to the toothbrush holder that now only contains one solitary brush.

 

Images flash in front of him- of them both standing in the cramped bathroom, him brushing his teeth while Hoseok tries (and fails) to shave for him, Hoseok falling asleep when drying Kihyun’s hair, Hoseok pushing him against cold tiles, hot water cascading between flushed bodies, _Hoseok Hoseok Hoseok_ –

 

And the fragile stitches piecing himself together just unravel.

 

Kihyun hugs himself to keep the pieces from flying apart.

Sobs erupt from strained lungs and rack his frame. Ragged breaths echo from the cold tiles. Tears fall silently in a graceful arc, gleaming like glass beads on whitened knuckles.

He feels like he’s been ripped apart then put back together carelessly. Nothing fits soundly anymore. Nothing stays put anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s half asleep, trying to rub the fatigue from his droopy eyelids. A mouth full of toothpaste crashes into his cheek messily. He squawks indignantly and swats at the culprit who accidentally sprays toothpaste foam from laughing too hard.

“Shin Hoseok!”

Hoseok doubles over from laughing. Kihyun wipes the foam from his face and smears it on Hoseok’s shirt. Hoseok retaliates by kissing Kihyun full on the mouth, toothpaste be damned.

“You’re the worst.” Kihyun spits in the sink. Hoseok rests his chin on Kihyun’s shoulder and smiles cheekily.

“At least you don’t need to brush your teeth anymore.”

 

He still does, but there’s a faint tingle on his lips the whole day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Changkyun finds him like that, head resting on his knees, shivering in a threadbare shirt, eyes puffy and bloodshot. He gingerly helps Kihyun to his feet and guides him back to the bedroom. Kihyun hates being babied, but he lets Changkyun fuss over him.

 

After making sure Kihyun was snug in a pile of blankets with a mug of tea, Changkyun sits down on the corner of the bed. He hands Kihyun a box of tissues.

“I’m fine, Kyun.”

“Just in case, hyung,” Changkyun presses it into his hands.

Kihyun sighs and accepts it.

“Hyung, do you remember what you asked me last night?” Changkyun suddenly asks. He toys with the frayed edges of Kihyun’s blanket.

Kihyun rubs his temples. Nothing really surfaces, except flashing lights and deafening music and him downing shots like there was no tomorrow.

“No?” His voice comes out all raspy. He takes a hasty sip of his tea and coughs. “Did I say weird shit?”

“I wouldn’t call it weird shit. It was just unexpected, I guess. Hyunwoo wanted to talk to you, too, but he had to take care of Minhyuk.”

“Kyun, just tell me what I said. Why should Hyunwoo be worried? I’m fine.”

Changkyun shoots him a withering look.

“From what I just saw, I wouldn’t say that, hyung.”

Kihyun looks away. “Don’t be silly.”

“You asked me if you should get over him.”

Kihyun freezes. Changkyun gently coaxes the mug out of his grip.

“I told you we’d be needing those tissues.” He hands Kihyun a rumpled handful.

“…Aish.” He tries to stopper the flow without avail. “D-did I really ask you that?”

Kihyun hates how pathetic he sounds right now. He hates how his tears are so easily triggered these days. He hates how desperate he was to expose his innermost fears to the younger.

But he doesn’t find a shred of pity in Changkyun’s eyes.

Instead, he finds a strange fierceness blazing intently.

 

“Hyung, I don’t think you should.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Ki?”

“Hmm?” Kihyun responds absentmindedly. Hoseok is walking beside him. It’s become a habit of theirs, Hoseok walking him back to his apartment, then parting ways. They befriended each other after that ridiculous date Minhyuk tried to set up.

 

(Kihyun still likes to poke fun at Hoseok sometimes.

“Were you trying to act tough? With the motorcycle and the leather jacket?”

“Yeah, until I found out you were closer to hell than I expected.”

Kihyun pinches Hoseok’s arm.

“ _Hey_ \- you see my point here?”)

 

 

Hoseok stops in his footsteps. Kihyun collides into him.

“Ow, what the hell, Hoseok.”

It’s then he notices Hoseok’s nervous gaze flitting from right to left. He’s also wringing his hands and playing with his fingers.

“…You okay?” Kihyun peers at him.

 

“Yoo Kihyun, be my boyfriend, will you.”

 

Kihyun’s eyes widen. Hoseok’s so red in the face he looks like he’s going to emit steam any second. It’s strangely adorable in Kihyun’s eyes.

His cheeks flare with color as he takes Hoseok’s big hands in his own. They’re cold and clammy but Kihyun couldn’t care less. He meets Hoseok’s anxious gaze, and offers a shy smile.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three months after they start dating, and Kihyun knows Hoseok is here to stay.

They get into squabbles often because Kihyun gets cranky when he’s tired and Hoseok (although sweet as he is) gets upset easily.

More often it’s Hoseok who pleads guilty and stumbles his way back into Kihyun’s heart. He knows Kihyun hates it when he uses his puppy eyes (so he just uses them every time).

But sometimes Kihyun comes to his senses first and tries to let Hoseok know how he’d never let anyone else but him inside.

Kihyun tiptoes until he’s behind Hoseok, wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, and buries his face into Hoseok’s sweatshirt. No words are exchanged.

 

Hoseok unlatches himself from Kihyun’s arms and turns around. A soft kiss is pressed to Kihyun’s forehead. They stay like that for a while, Hoseok’s chin placed on the top of Kihyun’s head, arms around each other.

“Just so you know,” Hoseok breaks the silence, “I’d never stop bothering you.”

Kihyun tightens his grip.

 

_I don’t want you to stop either_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A week after Changkyun’s visit, and his words still ring in Kihyun’s ears.

 

“When are you coming back?” He asks the monotone beeping on the other side of the phone. “I think I’m lost in the same place.

 

You remember that story you told me about? The one that says if you step on the shadow of the person you love, you’d never be separated? Well, you must have stepped on mine. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of you.”

 

Kihyun learns that shadows never leave. But life goes on.

He’s 23 going on to 24; he has dreams that he discarded, plans waiting to be fulfilled. He’s can’t afford to be the impulsive teenager he used to be.

He gingerly bandages his fractured heart and leaves it as it is.

Kihyun’s like a stable tide caressing the coast. Steadily and carefully, he treads through the debris on shore.

Between working part-time and trying to salvage enough stuff for his portfolio, there always seem to be empty slots.

Slots where he can almost hear the echo of dust particles spiraling in the air, feel the low hum of sunlight tinkering through the curtains, taste the mustiness wavering above creaky wooden planks.

Slots where he’s devoid of all emotion, but also bursting to the brim.

The bandages on his heart need tightening from time to time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kihyun clutches the rejection letter in his hand. It’s damp from sweat but he doesn’t give a damn.

Months and years of slaving away at his easel, staining his hands with charcoal and spectrums of colors and he doesn’t know what it was all for.

 

He’s not capable of going with Hoseok anymore. He isn’t… _worthy_.

The dull ringing in his ears won’t go away. He wants to scream.

He hears the metal clicking of a key being turned in a lock.

Kihyun doesn’t want to face Hoseok just now, so he stumbles to his feet, but he’s too late.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” Kihyun mumbles. Hoseok furrows his brows.

“You okay?” He makes to move closer, but Kihyun stops him.

“D-don’t touch me. Please.”

He can feel his seams bursting with ugly thoughts, ugly words. He doesn’t want Hoseok to see his insecurities come flooding out.

Hosoek doesn’t listen, though. His eyes catch the rumpled paper in Kihyun’s hands.

It all clicks. Kihyun can see the spark of understanding in Hoseok’s concerned eyes.

“Kihyun-” And he snaps.

“No!” Kihyun screams. “It’s not fine- _I’m not fine_ \- I’m not _worthy_ enough to go with you, _okay_ \- ”

A slap resonates in the cramped living room.

Kihyun’s hand flies to his cheek. He turns wide, glassy eyes on Hoseok.

It doesn’t hurt physically (but Kihyun can’t say the same mentally as he feels a pang in his chest).

Hoseok grabs his wrists. Kihyun cowers from his hard gaze.

“Yoo Kihyun, don’t ever let me hear that come from you.” Hoseok growls. “How could you say that? How could you even think that?”

Kihyun’s had enough shit today to not care anymore. He’s not backing down this time.

“What’s this shit? Now you’re all high and mighty because they accepted you?” He spits, venom clear in his voice. Hoseok’s taken aback. He narrows his eyes.

“What the fuck does this have to do with me?”

Kihyun doesn’t have an answer. He already feels regret clawing at his heart. He needs to get away from Hoseok.

“Fuck you,” he hisses, trying to twist his arms out of Hoseok’s grip. He fails. “ _Don’t touch me_ , I don’t want to fucking talk to you right now-”

“Babe, listen to me-” Hoseok’s begging now, he has tears in his eyes, too- like the crybaby he is- he’s stroking Kihyun’s face where he slapped him, but it’s smothering Kihyun, it’s too much for him to handle.

“No.” A whisper is all he can muster. Hoseok lets go of his hands. They hang limply by his sides.

He turns his back on Hoseok’s pleading gaze.

 

Even though Hoseok forgives him and coaxes him into bed, Kihyun stays awake in Hoseok’s embrace. He lets the tears fall silently.

 

_How can you forgive me when I can’t?_

The emotions stay rooted. He feels so torn.

Kihyun’s always been ambitious. So he’s helpless when jealousy washes over him in brutal tides.

These ugly emotions drown him.

 

He should feel happy for Hoseok. He is happy for Hoseok. He is happy.

 

 

 

 

 

He hates himself. He’s so lacking; an incomplete excuse of a boyfriend.

 

He tries to keep everything is hidden after that outburst.

But his pain demands to be felt. He lashes out at Hoseok from time to time, arguments either ending in him locking himself in their room, or Hoseok storming out for the night.

He tries to keeps the corners of his lips upwards in a deceiving curve, enough to keep Hoseok from worrying.

Hoseok still does.

Kihyun hates himself for making Hoseok suffer. He doesn’t deserve this.

 

 

 

A few days before Hoseok is scheduled to leave, Kihyun finds his boyfriend sound asleep at his desk, cheek pressed against cold wood, ratty jacket hanging off broad shoulders. Kihyun approaches him silently and adjusts his jacket for him. He sifts his fingers through Hoseok’s messy locks.

 

They’ve talked about keeping their relationship afloat; Hoseok insists that they can work this out while Kihyun just smiles each time. He promises to call Kihyun and Kihyun promises to try one more time, one more year, for both of them.

(He doesn’t think he can make it, so he lies.)

 

Kihyun muffles his sobs with one hand. He can feel Hoseok stirring, eyelids fluttering, so he retracts his other hand from his boyfriend’s hair and backs away, slowly.

 

He’s always too late.

Hoseok catches him by the arm and pulls him back.

“We’ll be fine,” Hoseok’s voice is still riddled with sleep. “Don’t cry, Ki.”

Kihyun squeezes his eyes shut.

_No, we won’t._

He flinches at the dull pain in his arm where Hoseok tightens his fingers.

“Ki, do you know what you’re saying?”

Kihyun opens his eyes in fear. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Hoseok’s wide eyes mirror his panic.

“Ki, I thought we talked about this,” he tries, uneasiness oozing from every word.

“I- I can’t do this anymore.” Kihyun trembles. “I can’t, Hoseok, I can’t stand always being one step behind you- _everything_ \- stop trying to make me feel happy about this, how can I-I feel happy when you’re the one leaving, _it’s always easier for you_ \- _you don’t understand how it feels to be left behind-_ ”

Hoseok’s on his feet now.

“ _I’m so tired of being happy for you-_ ”

Volumes are raised and Hoseok’s shouting, too- everything’s a mess and Kihyun screams and shoves Hoseok and things are scattered to the floor and he doesn’t know what he says next that causes Hoseok to push past him and he hears the door slam and-

And Hoseok doesn’t come back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frantic calls from Minhyuk and Changkyun bombard his phone. He just lets his phone vibrate until it dies.

Kihyun lies on the cold floor amid the chaos and counts the hours leading to Hoseok’s flight.

He dies a little with each lap of the minute hand ticking away.

 

He stays like that until Minhyuk barges into his apartment and tries to pick up the pieces of his life with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been a little more than two years.

Kihyun’s 24 going on to 25 and he knows life isn’t always rainbows and sparkles. He kept his promise to Hoseok and tried (and failed) one more application, so he settles for a local college nearby and works to pay for his own tuition.

Minhyuk’s witty comments and Changkyun’s weird sense of humor accompany him during the hardest of times.

(Like when he got wasted on Hoseok’s birthday and cried on Changkyun’s shoulder for the whole night. He apologized the next morning for ruining the younger’s shirt.)

The bandages over his heart hold fast, and he learns to breathe through the pain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kihyun sits up one night working on his final project. He has paint and glue on his hands and probably also tangled in his hair. He gnaws at his pencil furiously as he tries to unstick his fingers.

It’s raining outside. The gentle pitter-patter of rain envelops the city.

 

He doesn’t expect to hear the doorbell tinkle at this time (it was four in the fucking morning).

He groans and stretches, shuffling to open the door.

“Fuck you, Lee Minhyuk, what the fuck could you possibly want at this ungodly hour,” Kihyun wrenches the door open exasperatedly. “You-”

The pencil falls from his lips and clatters to the floor.

It lies forlornly between his socked feet, and-

And Hoseok.

Shin Hoseok, who’s standing in his doorway, looking drastically gorgeous even when drenched from newly dyed blonde hair to scuffed leather boots _and Kihyun can’t breathe-_

 

 

Hoseok peers at him through wet platinum locks. A puddle is forming by his feet and Kihyun resists the urge to mop it up.

 

“…Hi?”

“…After two fucking years, you come back here to say hi?”

“Well, not just two years. It’s been seven hundred and forty-four days.”

 

Kihyun feels the bandages around his heart peel off and unravel.

“Are you still mad at me?” He whispers, almost inaudibly.

“…What do you think?” Hoseok offers him a small smile, a shadow of the smile Kihyun loves _oh so much_.

 

And Kihyun feels himself falling for Hoseok so painfully all over again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yoo Kihyun is 25 going on to 26. He knows life is a fucking rollercoaster that throws you around when you least expect it. He knows that there are no gold pots at the end of a rainbow, nor does every love story have a _once upon a time_ and a _happily ever after._ He’s familiar with the way time passes ceaselessly, how it changes everything yet nothing at the same time. He knows how love can take one’s breath away, how it comes in forms like small photos tucked in ratty beanies, how it comes back soaked to the skin (and with blonde hair), and how it brings people to forgive and forget.

 

He knows what it’s like to fall out of love.

But Kihyun also knows what it means to fall back in love, to be loved.

And it’s the best feeling in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i know i'm shitty but thanks for reading anyway ;_;  
> *cries in 15 languages*
> 
> and i'm sorry i know i left out hyungwon  
> it's not an accident i cannot love chae hyungwon enough but i originally wanted him to be in the sequel  
> but now idk if the sequel is ever coming out lmao let's see
> 
> inspired by fine-taeyeon/a lot of day6 (stan talent!!!!)  
> i'm easily infired ok


End file.
